


Know the Difference

by txorakeriak



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oblivious Horatio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-26
Updated: 2006-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txorakeriak/pseuds/txorakeriak
Summary: With the help of Archie, Horatio makes a startling discovery concerning Mariette and Kitty Cobham but mostly himself.
Relationships: William Bush/Horatio Hornblower
Kudos: 1





	Know the Difference

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest part of this is set near the end of _The Frogs and the Lobsters_ , after the boys returned to the Indefatigable. The ending refers to _Loyalty_ and _Duty_.

"What's troubling your mind, Horatio?" 

Just when Archie Kennedy had actually spoken, Hornblower noticed his presence. He was sitting on the floor of the wardroom, enjoying some rare minutes of silence and solitude as he leaned against a table leg, a book in his hands. It was closed and it had not been opened since he had returned from his watch. He didn't even know why he had taken it from the table anymore and even though his eyes had been fixed on the cover for some minutes now, he couldn't tell which book he was holding. Not that it mattered. 

As he heard the words, he looked up, giving his fellow lieutenant a weak smile. "Archie..."

Kennedy wasn't satisfied with that. "Come on, Horatio. Get out with it."

Hornblower sighed and shook his head. "It's nothing, Archie."

That just earned him a frown. "Horatio, don't lie to me. I can see that something is wrong."

"Honestly, Archie, it's nothing." Hornblower didn't look at him, but he sounded determined. He wouldn't tell Kennedy, not for the world. It was his own matter and as such it would be treated. In any case, his friend had enough problems of his own.

"Horatio!" Kennedy wouldn't surrender. The way he spoke Horatio's name almost sounded like a parent compelling a child to tell the truth, and without even realizing, Hornblower responded like a child. He pressed his lips together and scowled.

Kennedy sighed and finally sat down beside his friend. "You can tell me, you know. We are friends, are we not?"

Hornblower smiled weakly. "Yes, we are. But Archie, it is not important. Just leave me with it, I will find a solution before the morning."

Kennedy let out a quick mocking laugh. "Oh, Horatio. You should be aware of the fact that I know you very well by now. If it wasn't important, you wouldn't have been sitting here for more than ten minutes just staring at that book!" It was very seldom that Kennedy sounded so serious and troubled himself with the problems of others, but when the occasion came, he would stand firm.

Hornblower sighed again, perfectly aware of his friend's determination. "I was thinking about... Archie, are you really sure you want to hear this? I don't want to burden you with my regrets."

"I'm sure, Horatio," Kennedy said honestly. "Tell me. There's nothing in the world so bad that it can't be improved by talking about it." 

"I don't know..."

"Horatio. Please. You don't burden me."

"All right," Hornblower surrendered. "I was... I was thinking about Mariette. I... I feel sorry - and ashamed. I promised her to save her - and I didn't. I failed her."

Kennedy rested his hand on Hornblower's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "But Horatio," he said in a calm, reasonable voice, "she was beyond help. There was nothing you could do for her."

"Archie, I promised!" Hornblower exclaimed, suddenly agitated. "I swore to her I would get her out of her misery!" 

It seemed to him as if the moment was just passing in front of his eyes again. He promised. He tried to save her. He failed. She was shot in front of his eyes, died in his arms, and he didn't stay to die with her. He left her lying in the dust, as a feast for the vultures of war that would steal her last belongings. 

Nobody would understand how important it all was to him. Nobody would ever be able to feel what he felt. Anger. Desperation. Disappointment. 

Kennedy gave him a compassionate smile. "She meant much to you, didn't she?"

Hornblower nodded slowly, trying to control his breath as he calmed down again. "Yes. She did."

Kennedy nodded. "She was indeed a very pretty girl. Did you find her attractive?" 

Hornblower nodded again. "She was an intelligent woman."

"That is not exactly the same thing," Kennedy said. "But then again," he added, as if the memory had just come back to him, "I remember you didn't come back to camp one night..." And he gave his friend a meaningful look.

Hornblower frowned, but he didn't say anything. It was true, of course, but he didn't see where it was important.

But his silence only seemed to surprise Kennedy more. "Does that mean you didn't even touch her?" he asked, incredulously.

"Archie!" Hornblower knew his friend well enough to be aware of the fact that he was prone to impudent questions, but he certainly wouldn't have expected such a question. It was completely and entirely improper, and his friend couldn't possibly expect an answer to it!

Kennedy's eyes told otherwise. He looked as attentive as a pupil in his favourite lesson. His head was bent forward, his eyebrows raised, and he was smiling friendly with that particular hint of youthful mischief that was so typical of him. "Come on! You can tell me."

Hornblower nodded, but rather reluctantly this time, unsure if his decision would be right. "Very well," he said at length. "But no. I did not touch her."

"And is that the source of your regrets?"

"Don't be a fool, Archie!" Hornblower stared at him, bewildered. "Of course not! How can you think such a thing?"

"It's just natural!" Kennedy defended himself, but he was still smiling. "I'm merely putting the question, Horatio."

"I'm a gentleman, Archie." Hornblower said earnestly, his lips forming a small pout. 

Kennedy let out a small laugh at that. "That is not what I mean." Either, his friend was really convinced of propriety being the key to everything, or he was just brought up in that belief and not mature enough to realize the truth. In any case, Kennedy thought it best to make up for Dr. Hornblower's negligence. "Wasn't she interested in you?"

Hornblower could not see how that should matter. "She trusted me! I... I could not take advantage of her trust!"

At that, Kennedy gave him an affectionate but also commiserate smile. "Poor Horatio," he said. "So quick and efficient a lieutenant, so blind a man."

"Archie?" Hornblower stared at him, positively dumbfounded. On the one hand, there was nothing in the world that Hornblower hated more than being told poetic and meaningless one-liners, especially by the person he considered his closest friend in the world. He did not understand most of them, but he could tell that they meant criticism, and above all, friends should support each other, not point a finger at each other. On the other hand, he couldn't just leave and let the whole matter drop. 

"Think about it, Horatio," Kennedy continued, ignoring Hornblower's outburst. "What if you weren't attracted to her at all?"

Hornblower let out a big sigh. He regretted having permitted this conversation, for it was leading nowhere. It just meant more unanswered questions, apart from increasing Kennedy's curiosity. "How can you doubt that?" he finally asked, his voice showing his desperation. "I wanted to rescue her, Archie. I promised her that I would save her."

"Oh, Horatio," Kennedy sighed, amused. "You promised me to get me out of El Ferrol and you did it. And I am no woman." There it was again, the mischievous grin, accompanied by a flicker in the blond lieutenant's eyes. 

By then, Hornblower had reached a complete loss of words. He didn't know what to say anymore, for it was true, wasn't it? He had nursed Kennedy back to health in the Spanish prison and saved him and the rest of the men. He had succeeded in that. Why had he not been able to save a single French woman? Had he been lacking determination, courage, power? And if so - why?

***

Kennedy's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "What about Kitty Cobham - the Duchess? She's quite attractive, isn't she?" His voice was conversational, but there was a little undertone which made it clear that this was not just a casual chat.

Hornblower sensed it, but he didn't know what to say. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, his voice low, a mirror to the confusion he felt inside. Where did the Duchess suddenly come from? 

"The Duchess," Kennedy repeated. "Didn't you find her attractive either?"

"What do you mean, Archie?" Hornblower frowned, not knowing where all this was supposed to be relevant. 

"All I'm saying is," Kennedy said, winking at his friend, "that Miss Cobham was quite fond of you. I could see that when she left and bid you goodbye."

Hornblower still didn't know what he was supposed to say. "We are friends, Archie," he finally said, rather helplessly. "She taught me conversation."

Kennedy grinned. "I don't suppose that was everything she could teach you?"

If it had been anyone but Kennedy, Hornblower wouldn't permit any more of this. His implications only confused him and he didn't know what to tell him to finally end the conversation. He had a vague idea where it was leading and he didn't really want to take it any further. He could see, however, that Kennedy was concerned about him and just wanted to help, if just in his own brash way, so he spoke. 

"I'm going to tell you this just once, Archie, and never again." His voice was determined, showing just a little agitation. "The Duchess-- Miss Cobham sacrificed her pride and her self-respect to protect her alias. She permitted a Frenchman to--" He swallowed. "-- to use her, and she was not proud of it. I am not a cruel man. She was humiliated enough. And I would appreciate it if we didn't continue talking about this."

Archie nodded. "Very well. I just want to tell you, as a friend, that you don't have to worry yourself senseless about this," he said with an affectionate smile, squeezing Hornblower's shoulder again. "You have to draw the line somewhere. If you draw it at getting intimate with women, that is your own matter. It's not the only option. And believe me, the alternatives are better than you might think." He winked.

Hornblower flinched, alarmed. He had not seen that one coming. "Archie! What are you implying?"

But it was merely a rhetorical question. As the thought hit him, he pulled himself up from the floor and ran out of the wardroom, slamming the door. 

***

Only when he was lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, incapable of finding any sleep, he realized the impact of this sudden discovery. Kennedy had been right, as always when it came to such matters. He had opened Hornblower's eyes, and now, the young man was utterly terrified of what he saw. 

Memories came back to him, memories he would never have expected to matter so much some day. Embarrassing memories mostly, about Kennedy undressing before him, about Clayton taking a shower and about the reactions of his own body, even when Simpson was pressed against him, threatening to hurt him. Kennedy had explained that such reactions were natural, a sign of growing up that happened to every man. 

He had expected them to return when he had kissed Mariette. It hurt him to admit that they hadn't. He had felt no more than a little warmth in his heart. What a fool he had been to believe that it had been a matter of manners and respect. It wasn't as if he had lacked them on the _Justinian_. 

His eyes filled with tears and he bit his tongue to force them back, but they couldn't be stopped. They ran down his cheeks like a waterfall and he was sobbing so hard he thought he'd choke.

What had he done, who had he offended to deserve that? He was sick. _A fancier of other boys_ , just like Simpson had said. A monster. 

He wasn't meant to live. 

Still, he didn't want to die. Not anymore. He would try to change. He would try to cure his illness. He would not let it trouble himself again.

And it didn't. After having spent several nights awake, weeping bitterly for all he was worth and cursing Kennedy, Mariette and everyone he could think of, someone got him out of his black hole and took him to a world much brighter and better than the one he had known. Someone told him about hope and how it was always there, no matter how serious the problem. Someone told him about love and how it was the fairest of all things because it didn't distinguish between people or judge them.

***

Years later, Hornblower would stand on deck of the _Hotspur_ , listening to the sheets fluttering in the wind and the sound of the waves crashing against the hull of the ship. Next to him, there would be his first lieutenant, William Bush, a man like there was no other in the world, and so much more. Their gazes would meet, just for a moment, exchanging thoughts and private smiles, and then Hornblower would cast his eyes on the sky and send a grateful prayer heavenwards to the blond-haired, cheerful and entirely impossible young man he had grown up with.


End file.
